


hoarfrost

by sybilius



Series: Talking won't save you [5]
Category: Il buono il brutto il cattivo | The Good The Bad and The Ugly (1966)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fisting, Bad Consent, Breathplay, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Lack of Communication, M/M, Northern aesthetic, Past Sexual Assault, Poor Boundaries, Rope Bondage, Sexual Violence, Sort Of, bad coping, good ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 22:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17671334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybilius/pseuds/sybilius
Summary: The turn of winter drives a shiver under the skin of Tweechik's newest residents. For Blondie, it brings  old questions to the surface, beading in a cold sweat that he can't ignore anymore.





	hoarfrost

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the most deplorable thing I've ever written. It also may have gotten some of my best writing, I don't know. I really like it. 
> 
> I digress. This is “terrible coping” the fic, so mind the tags if you decide to read. This takes place in the timeskip of Sighted Crows, between Ch2 and Ch3. I've hinted that I saw past Blonco as a mutually abusive relationship, this fic makes that overtly textual. Blondeyes is definitely shades of abusive here. So you know, keep all that in mind. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you do read <333

Cold snap was the only way to describe the September snow in the Pass.

Blondie heard his neck pop when he woke, the hair standing up behind it as his bare arms turned to gooseflesh. Their tiny room in the inn felt like the inside of an icebox. Angel was already up, smoking his pipe, a slight shiver in his shoulders.

It must have come over the course of hours in the night. The frost creeping up in webs on the thick window pane, the coals in the corner stove barely heating even the splintered floorboards in front of it.

Blondie blinked the sleep out of his eyes, remembering the last time he'd seen Angel shiver. _Not because of the weather._ He dragged himself out of bed, picking out a log from the stack. The stove door was almost cool to the touch.

“Turned quickly,” Angel Eyes pulled on his jacket over his bare chest, “I'm sure that doesn't bother Sue.”

“Mm,” Blondie grunted, turning back to the fire. They'd need to get a lot more logs, maybe chop some of their own. The innkeep wasn't exactly much for hospitality. _Probably doesn't get many guests._

Were they guests, at this point? It had been just about a month there, and they'd found steady work damn quick. _Not really place you can rest_. But Angel seemed to like it that way.

Blondie grimaced, Sue's questions when they'd met coming back to him. Still no answers. _But I'm going where he goes, at least._

There was still so much he didn't know about Angel-- or things he'd learned in patchwork threads, mottled like that hanging on the wall of the church they'd broken into just before running the border. _Tapestry, Angel called it. And he'd spent time at a seminary._ That didn't tell him much.

“What?”

He'd been staring, watching the smoke from the pipe as he thought. Blondie snapped his gaze back to the stove.

“You um. Want coffee?”

Angel simply gave him a disparaging look, but spared him none of his usual caustic morning wit. _So the cold is putting him in too much of a mood to be a sonofabitch._ Blondie tried to feel like that was a blessing.

Instead, it just made him shiver against the wave of heat from the stove. He dressed in silence as usual, still trying to follow threads of what Angel had said, hissed, hinted at in the many months they were travelling together. But really what he was knotting around were those scars. _Handcuff sores._ That much he was sure of now.

But now didn’t seem like the right time to press at those, neither. Not when they were expected at their duties in about an hour’s time.

Blondie thought about it, though. The bitter thoughts went with the coffee, their taste on his tongue as he slowly tramped through the half foot of snow on the ground. Angel had his own way with words. _Unlike me._ But it was hard to tell if he ever meant what he said. _He says so damn much without words._

In that much, they were alike.

Sue took them to the north of the Pass that day, both to sniff out some small game and to get on the caribou trail. The usual habit was to pair off, Sue and George, Peter and Blondie, regroup with the catch. Occasionally Blondie and George would pair off, though Blondie preferred Sue to both of them. Peter was a good man, but his chatter was often distracting. And George's taciturn silence could be outright unsettling. _Even though I'm just as quiet as he is._

“Peter and I will hunt together today,” George said when they arrived, as if the matter was decided. Sue frowned, sizing him up with a steely gaze.

“If that's what you want. Tomorrow, you and I track the _vazdaih._ Be ready.”

“Fine.” George ceded, as did all the residents, to Sue's judgment.

Blondie's brow furrowed. He'd wanted a chance to speak with Sue privately. _Guess this is fate handing it to me._ He shouldered his gun, trying to feel like this was a blessing rather than a burden.

 _Tough to think of how to say it._ He squinted at the snow-covered landscape between the trees, the whiteness of it almost blurring his vision. Sue glanced back warily to the others retreating footsteps before they settled in for the primary part of hunting.

Waiting.

“You're quiet.” she broke the silence after what was probably about fifteen minutes. A nice change from Peter.

“Like always.”

“Not quite. I misspoke. You're usually quiet, but you're also usually observing. Taking in the landscape, looking out for game, staying aware of G-- of the others,” Sue mused. Blondie was a little surprised she'd brought up George. For no reason he was sure of, he found himself wanting to keep the other Hunter under a close eye. _Maybe years of travelling with people like that set me on edge._ But Sue at least didn't seem to disagree with it.

“Guess so.”

They waited out another beat of time. Blondie caught Sue half-smiling beside him.

“Not today though, today you've barely seen the porcupine not twenty yards from us,” a ghost of a smile flew across her face as Blondie pulled out his Navy and shot it neatly, “Something on your mind?”

Blondie blinked at her, then turned away as they walked to get the catch. _God above, she's good at-- reading people._ Blondie supposed Angel was the same way, when he wanted to be. _Or he is with me._ That was an unsettling thought. He picked up the porcupine, shaking off the drying blood that spattered across the clean white snow.

“Have you ever -- wanted someone to tell you about something? Something you're damn sure is the last thing they want to talk about?”

She considered this, her gaze flitting back to where Peter and George's heads were visible on the landscape, “Something that affects you?”

“Not-- directly. But yeah. Just something I want to understand about him.”

“This is about Angel Eyes, yeah?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“Well--” she hushed for a moment, spotting a grouse and making quick work of it, “I know a little bit about that, I'd say. Castellan-- she has some stories that were harder to tell than others.”

Blondie nodded, the tension in his chest starting to relax.   _Leastaways this isn't out of her expertise._

“I'd say be clear about what you want to know. Give them space, but also-- don't let them run away from it forever, not if it bothers you. But you gotta understand, only they know--”

A shot rang out from the other hunters, causing Sue to flinch. _Now that’s not like her._ When they hunted together months before she'd never had much of a problem with hearing the other shots.

“Everything alright?”

She didn't seem to hear at first, checking the horizon again for them. She shook her head, “All fine.”

He nodded. When she didn't continue her train of thought, he didn't push it neither. _I've got enough to go on, right?_

_Just ask him and make sure you get an answer?_

He spotted a rabbit sniffing about in the distance. He gestured to Sue, watching it freeze, in its eyes reflected the choice _fight, flight?_

 _Not this time_. Just as its nose twitched, Blondie shot it clean through the neck.

He thought about how he might ask for the rest of the hunt. Evening fell earlier every night, and before he could fully decide, he was shoulder to shoulder with Angel Eyes at the saloon. Angel at least seemed to have gotten past the cold, and the expression on his face had shifted to something darkly curious. Blondie traded him a few words about the hunt, and he talked about Castellan's theories on blood. _So nothing unusual._

It surprised Blondie again how this had become _usual_ . And that thought didn't settle like a stone in his chest neither. _Not a lot of space there with all the thoughts about Angel's scars._

He resisted the urge to light a quirley, deciding there'd be time for that after -- whatever it was Angel Eyes had to say. Angel was eager to go upstairs in any case, all it took was a nudge to his shoulder and a knowing look. _Maybe this will make it easier._

 _He did tell me that story while we fucked didn't he?_ In a sense of the word telling. The old wood creaked as they took the stairs in step together, none of the patrons batting an eye. By now, everyone in town knew who they were.

Blondie considered for a moment dropping the whole thing, but when Angel shut the door to their room and kissed the breath out of him, he was sure.

_Can't keep thinking about this forever._

Angel's fingers were impatient with Blondie's coat, the fire they lit an hour before finally throwing warmth into the tiny room. Blondie let him, for the moment, gathering himself, muscle memory stripping Angel of his shirt. Then he decided.

He shoved Angel backwards on to the bed, crushing Angel's thighs with his knees. A smile formed on Angel's face-- _the sonofabitch likes brutality._ But this was calculated, for once, rather than letting his worst side run rampant. _To make sure I get an answer._

Blondie grabbed Angel's wrists before he could play fight back, pinning them above his head. His body flinched when Blondie's palm pressed in to the scar. Then something changed in Angel’s eyes. _Goddamnit. No going back now._

“I never asked you why.”

“The hell do you mean?” Angel struggled against Blondie’s grip, his eyes narrowing.

Blondie held him fast, not giving an inch. _Don't let him run,_ he reminded himself, despite the growing discomfort in his chest.

“Why you did that in that rotted-out jail? Hell, Angel, if all that happened -- why do it again with me?”

“Get. Off. Me,” Angel Eyes hissed, his eyes flashing like lightning on a clouded desert. _Shit._

Blondie eased off his grip slowly, half expecting Angel to hit him. He looked like he was ready to -- _wouldn't be the first time we've fought it out to say what needs to be said._ But then again, he'd only seen that look in Angel's gaze a handful of times.

_And every damn time it ended with bodies._

Angel Eyes didn't raise his fist, just drew his lips into a thin line, and said only, “Get the rope.”

Blondie blinked, then obeyed. _Usually it's just me that asks him for that._ Blondie's skill with knots was significantly more limited. But when he brought the rope over, Angel Eyes took it from him with a sneer.

“Turn around.”

“What are you doing?”

“Same damn thing you keep asking for. Turn. Around.”

Blondie turned, his back to Angel Eyes for a heartbeat. The rope fell around his neck, a hangman's noose. Then his hands, behind his back, tied roughly and cinched to the noose. So that any struggle he made would go straight to his neck.

 _Shit._ He had asked for this, suggested it, every damn time Angel told him they could get out the rope. And every damn time Angel had refused.

What was it he always said? _Some of that Latin shit, pretty sure the word 'dead’ came up._ And then 'If I wanted a corpse, Blondie, I've got bullets for that’.

 _God above. Is he going to kill me?_ Blondie hadn't wondered that in more than a few weeks, hadn't realized how distant that reality had become. The desire for it welled up like sickly poison in his throat, 'I'm not a weapon’ Angel Eyes had told him once -- Blondie hadn't believed him, then.

_Hadn't realized I believe that now._

But it was too damn late for that, Angel Eyes shoved him down to the bed face first, then knelt on his legs, a reversal of their earlier positions. Blondie kept still, the heat in his skin rising as he remembered the last time he'd been tied up like this. _Not with Angel._

He'd been half-drunk then, loathing himself for wishing he'd missed the shot and let Tuco strangle on his own spite and arrogance. Instead, Tuco had him by the neck, making him feel every half second of his hesitation while he dragged the arousal out of him.

Blondie wasn't hard. _Thank God for that_. Angel Eyes made a small noise of disapproval when he undid his belt, then draped his body overtop of him and went to work. First, teeth and hot breath to his ear, fingers next to his neck, Angel's leather skin almost soft compared to the cut of jute. It was as precise as any shot Blondie had seen Angel take, cool and straight to the chest.

 _God damn him._ It was too damn easy, much easier to get him panting and desperate even as his breath strained against the rope. But all of it felt too much like choking on the memory of desert dust and his own blood. _Why the hell did I ever ask him for this?_

But he was hard now, so -- _must be something in it I want._ Blondie gasped when Angel slid a finger in his ass, oil coated and just gentle. At first.

Then it became the same as in memory, a relentless fist driving pain through the waves of shame at his center and still, _still_ the barest hint of pleasure made his precum weep onto the threadbare quilt.

_Is this punishment?_

Blondie remembered how livid Tuco had been when he'd tied the noose, pushing Blondie down to the bed with no pretense of asking. Blondie had let him.

_Is this retribution?_

Blondie twitched, and nearly bit his tongue as the noose strained at his neck. _God above._

“Angel-- “ he managed to croak between shallow breaths, “God above, _stop._ ”

Another wave of pain. And then--

Angel hesitated. Just stilled, so that Blondie could feel his fingers shifting inside.

He pulled his hand out slowly. Every knuckle hurt. Distantly, Blondie heard him take the knife out of his boot, Blondie squeezed his eyes shut, no struggle left in him--

Angel Eyes cut the rope around his neck.

Blondie gasped, his hands falling free behind him. He scrambled to sit upright in the bed, nearly falling over as he did so. His knees drew up to his chest as he tried to control the shake in his shoulders.

Everything felt hot and cold at the same time. _God above._

Blondie was almost surprised at his own relief.

“Small wonder you pitied me,” Angel stared down at him, eyes glassy and distant. Blondie looked away. _What the hell was I thinking, pushing him like that? Of course this is what I'd get for thinking he'd --_

Angel Eyes’ hand pressed to his neck, just softly. Blondie choked on his breath a moment.

“Stop thinking whatever it is you're thinking,” Angel sat down beside him carefully, so that their legs were pressed together. His lips were drawn white as the window frost.

“What?” Blondie managed after almost a minute of breathing against Angel's touch, “Thinking what?”

“That you deserve this.”

 _Oh._ Blondie swallowed against the bruises forming on his neck, the shape of Angel's hand oddly grounding. He loosened his grip further, his hand almost draped against Blondie's shoulder. _That why he always refused to do it? Not because he wanted to kill me, but because of me?_ Blondie flexed his shaking fingers.

“Is that what you thought? Back in that jail? That you deserved it?”

“There's no _deserve_ except what we decide,” Angel said distantly.

“Hell of a thing from a man who takes his name from angels.”

Angel Eyes almost laughed then, short and bitter, “Lie down.”

Blondie didn't argue. The violence of what Angel had done and almost done had swept into his bones. He was still shaking. But Angel didn't move his arm, just let Blondie settle with his head pillowed there. Blondie remembered, distantly, the dull pain of trying to keep completely still as Tuco slept soundly beside him.

 _But I asked for that, didn't I? With Tuco? With him?_ Blondie dug his nails into his palm. _Just ended up with more questions I can't answer._ Angel's fingers brushed his shoulder, and against whatever better judgment was left in him, he shifted closer, so that his head rested in the crook of Angel's arm.

Angel just stared, unmoving. And then:

“I wanted to know if it felt any different.”

It takes Blondie a moment to understand what he's answering. And then a moment longer to ask the next question.

“Did it?”

“Course it did.”

Blondie nodded against him, wincing a little at the movement of his neck. _Different with him but…I still remember that it happened. Must be the same for him too._ Blondie was, if nothing else, sure of that.

At some point Blondie couldn't fully put his finger on, he stopped shaking. Angel stayed where he was, though, occasionally tracing his fingers along the curve of Blondie's shoulder absently. On his bare skin, Blondie could feel the slight roughness of the scar on Angel's wrist.

When Angel Eyes eventually got up to shove a log into the stove, Blondie shivered against the wave of cold in his absence. But he wasn't surprised when Angel came back, either, tugging out the blanket and offering him the match once he'd lit his pipe, as he often did.

That wasn't an answer to any of Blondie's questions, but the room felt warmer nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> Prooooobably one of the worst things Angel ever did and never apologized for? idk consent vaguely respected.
> 
> I could meta on this for a while, but this is partially why the ending of Sighted Crows is like it is. Angel thinks a lot about what it meant that Blondie stopped when he asked him to. They're both...not used to having that happen I figure. 
> 
> Sue is tense about George for the obvious reasons in Sighted Crows. Of course she assumes Blondie knows....but he doesn't :P 
> 
> I stand by what I said, comments very welcome <3


End file.
